


Sirius' Sacrifice

by Caughtinblackseyes



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Some Weasley Bashing, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-21
Updated: 2013-03-21
Packaged: 2017-12-05 23:57:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/729355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caughtinblackseyes/pseuds/Caughtinblackseyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the eve of Hermione's engagement to Ron, she and Sirius are captured by Death Eaters and taken before the Dark Lord. Sirius does his best to keep Hermione safe and unbeknownst to him, he has a well of untapped magic locked deep inside of himself. Unlocking that dormant magic could be the key to their salvation or lead to Sirius' ultimate destruction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Engaging Hermione

**Author's Note:**

> I make no money and own zippo!

  **Chapter One**  


 

He turned her face slowly so that he could see it better. She was unconscious but, thankfully, still breathing. Other than a few scratches and smears of dirt, she looked relatively unharmed, but he knew that just because she looked unscathed did not necessarily mean anything. He, of all people, was well aware that there were other forms of torture more excruciating than any physical blow could ever impart.

Grasping her chin, he gave it a slight but fairly firm shake. It must have been just enough because an agonized moan slipped passed her chapped lips, and her thick lashes fluttered. Her eyes opened to mere slits, and he could see that beyond her glazed stare lay a lingering pain in their deep, dark depths. He scowled, a scowl filled with intense hatred toward those who had taken her from the safety of the Burrow. The place where her childhood friend and future husband was, more than likely, going mental with fear. Sirius knew just how he felt. He was afraid as well. Afraid for dear, sweet Hermione. Then she recognized him.

Her brow wrinkled in confusion as she whispered, “Sirius?”

He smiled. When she saw his infamous the-devil-take you-or-I will grin, she sent him a weak grin of her own, her face clearing of all worry and fear. It broke his heart to have to tell her that they weren’t safe, that it hadn’t all been a bad dream, and that they were, in fact, being held captive by the vilest creature imaginable.

“Hello love,” he whispered back, tucking a few wayward strands of honey-coloured curls behind the delicate shell of her ear. He would put the truth off just for a bit longer. She was so tiny and fragile, and even through streaks of grime, she looked lovely, so very lovely.

But then to him, she’d always been lovely. He hated to admit it because, at the time, it had made him feel like some nasty pedophile. But he was certain that from the moment she had blown the gates off of his prison at the young age of fourteen, he’d been a tad bit in love with her. Imagine him, a grown man, having a crush on a teen-aged girl. Remus would have laughed himself silly had he known. He would then have admonished him severely while issuing threats upon promises of threats. However, Sirius had needed no such threats; he had never touched her in anything other than affectionate friendship, treating her as if he were a benevolent uncle and nothing more.

A year ago, on Hermione’s seventeenth birthday, he’d given her a bear hug, lifting her high off of the floor, twirling her round and round, and giving her a resounding kiss on the cheek before placing her carefully on her feet. She’d giggled, blushed, and stammered a bit while Molly stood close by, her disapproval all too clear. So, even if he had wanted to do something about this attraction he felt, he couldn’t have, he thought wryly. Molly’s ever-watchful eye was upon him. Scrutinizing his every look or move, protecting her little chick from the big bad wolf.

He had been a bit offended by her attitude and it annoyed him to no end that Molly thought so little of him as to think that he would seduce a girl who had been little more than a child. But then, Molly never had had a very high opinion of him. She remembered the days before his imprisonment. She’d thought him quite the Casanova and had been openly disdainful of his carefree bachelor’s life-style.

Her opinion meant squat to him, but he was concerned that she would take it into her prudish head to spout a bunch of damaging drivel about him to Hermione. He guessed she hadn’t because Hermione’s attitude and the way she related to him hadn’t changed at all.

Still, he felt a twinge of unease every time Molly was alone with her. Some infantile part of him was deathly afraid that at some point Molly would convince Hermione of his nastily nefarious ways and deeds of debauchery. Now _that_ was a truly frightening thought.

Hermione, now fully aware, glanced around. Her bottom lip began to quiver, and when her eyes met his eyes, they were once more filled with confusion, but it was a confusion laced with heavy overtones of fear.

“Shhh…,” he commanded in tender tones while lightly grazing her quivering lip with his thumb. “Don’t be afraid, love; I’m here with you.”

He knew what she’d seen when she’d looked around her. Dozens of black-robed individuals hovered near them in a large semi-circle. Anticipation, a palatable and ripe entity, flowed through the room: a force weighing them both down, the air almost too heavy to breathe.

“What’s happening?” Hermione asked in an agonized whisper, trying not to notice that the Death Eaters were closing in on them. Before Sirius could explain another voice intervened.

“Move aside, Black. The Dark Lord would like a closer look at the Mudblood.”

Hermione’s eyes widened. She’d recognized the slick, aristocratic sneer-filled voice. Lucius Malfoy. Sirius grabbed her hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. “I won’t leave you,” he stated emphatically, staring deeply into her eyes, willing her to believe him.

 

* * *

Hermione was deathly afraid and not just for herself. Things had been hazy when she’d first opened her eyes to find Sirius’s face close to her own. She only wished everything else before that was just as hazy, but it wasn’t.

She had perfect recall of having been at the Burrow. It had been a family dinner, one of many she’d been to. The house, which seemed to be filled to its fullest capacity when only half the Weasley clan was present, had seemed fair to bursting at the seams with all the Weasleys in attendance. Moreover, that was without counting the friends who were also stuffed in here and then.

Molly had been thrilled when all of her children, and little Victoire, who was the shining light of Molly’s life, had managed to see their way to the family home. Hermione had wondered what the big occasion was and had been startled when she had realized that the majority of eyes had been trained on her throughout most of the evening.

Her unease continued when Ron had hurriedly, and with great determination, pulled her away from chatting with Remus and Sirius. She had reluctantly excused herself, giving Remus a pat on the arm and Sirius a strained, awkward smile. The room, which had been a mass of loud conversations, had suddenly grown quiet as she’d followed Ron out into the back patio.

It wasn’t unusual for Ron to get into a snit whenever she’d spend time with the last two remaining Marauders. It was perplexing. She just didn’t get why Ron seemed to feel so threatened by the two older men. Merlin, one was a former Professor, and so clearly and utterly besotted with Tonks that even the dimmest twit could not fail to catch a clue. The other man in question was Harry’s godfather. How much more innocent could it get? Nevertheless, Ron continued to give them both baleful looks whenever she was in animated conversation with them. Remus had appeared to find Ron’s jealousy highly amusing. As for Sirius? Sirius, on the other hand, would scowl back just as balefully, no doubt annoyed that Ron would think such silly and outrageous thoughts.

Ron cleared his throat and when he spoke his voice was high-pitched and slightly squeaky. “I was wondering if you would… well… that is,” Ron stopped, pulling at his collar once more before continuing. “I was hoping that maybe we might, you know, maybe…”

She wished he would just get to the point; all this him-hawing around was annoying, and she really wanted to get back inside so that she could pick up where she’d left off on the fascinating conversation she had been engrossed in before Ron had dragged her away.

Sirius and Remus had been regaling her with stories on how Sirius and Harry’s father had become Animagi. It sounded like an intriguing process, and she had been on the brink of asking Sirius to help her to become one herself, but then Ron had intervened. She sighed. It seemed as if Ron had some sort of inherent radar whenever she was with Remus and Sirius. It was remarkable, considering how oblivious he could be when it came to other people, situations, or interests that she might have. Interests that he had continuously and actively ignored or didn’t deem important enough to become a part of even though they’d meant plenty to her. She had just put it down to him being Ron.

“What is it, Ron?”

Ron looked as if he were about ready to bring up the enormous dinner he had consumed and shuffled his feet as he continued to pull at his collar, gulping convulsively. She couldn’t help but watch in fascination as his Adams apple bobbed up and down with each swallow.

 

When Ron knelt down clumsily while rifling around in the many pockets of his robes, Hermione’s heart stopped cold. Was he going to do what she thought he was going to do? She tried to steady her breathing, but it was difficult. She had been in love with Ron for quite some time; well before he had even noticed she was a girl. But she wasn’t ready to get _married_! There was too much to finish, too much to do; thoughts of happily-ever-after just weren’t in the big picture at this point! Merlin’s pointy beard, Ron should know that; sure he could be a tad dim on occasion, but this was the limit.

He looked up at her, his beautiful blue eyes so hopeful and fearful all at once, and Hermione knew that she wouldn’t have the heart to refuse him. However, she would insist on a long engagement; she would _not_ let Molly Weasly, manipulative matchmaker extraordinaire, railroad her into wedding before she helped Harry through this mess of a War or before she finished her studies.

She smiled, and that smile seemed to give him just the boost of courage that he needed to follow though with his proposal. Grinning from ear-to-ear, his eyes glowing with happiness, he held the small box aloft and waited for her to take it. And then, quicker than you could say, Blast-Ended Skrewt, everything had gone to hell in a hand basket.

* * *

Sirius was having trouble breathing. The fact that Rodolphus Lestrange had his beefy arm round his neck and was periodically squeezing it might have had something to do with that. Bella’s sadistic husband could easily have subdued Sirius with magic, very few witches or wizards favored physical combat, but apparently his sick fuck of a cousin by marriage preferred the hands-on approach.

 

When the occasion called for it, like back at the Burrow, Sirius himself wasn’t averse to using physical violence. But, right at this moment, he’d have given his last gold galleon for his wand or any wand for that matter. Hell, he’d even go so far as to say he’d rather be back at the Burrow watching Ron doing his impression of a babbling idiot as he proposed to Hermione.

Sirius had been watching the scene on the patio unfold from the kitchen window, and a part of him had wondered how Hermione would react. All the people there that evening knew what Ron had been planning, and the majority had been thrilled to their toes; however, Sirius hadn’t been one of them.

Remus, diplomatic as usual, had nothing but kind words to say when Molly had gleefully and, in Sirius’ opinion, with a touch of eager malice, informed them all of the real reason behind the dinner. But his good mate, Moony couldn’t pull the wool over his eyes. Moony thought Ron as unworthy of Hermione as he did. Moony just decided to hide it; that was his way. Added to the fact that Moony liked Ron, genuinely liked him, and so he pretended to be pleased.

Sirius had not been nearly as diplomatic. Actually, he hadn’t been diplomatic at all, but he didn’t care how he’d sounded. He ignored the dagger-like glare that Molly had sent his way when he’d let out a loud, barking laugh filled with derision. Ron’s freckled hands had curled into fists, and a part of Sirius was just aching for him to take a swing. It would have given Sirius a valid excuse to retaliate in turn.

“Padfoot,” Remus had mumbled under his breath while putting a restraining hand on Sirius’ shoulder. Remus had seen that look on his friend’s face before, and it had led to disaster each and every time. “Don’t ruin this for Hermione,” Remus warned.

That comment had deflated his anger somewhat. But it also left behind a vague residue of sadness, of emptiness, and he knew with certainty that he had to get away from here, from everyone. So with a toss of his shoulder-length, ebony hair he strode toward the fireplace with all the intimidating grace of the aristocrat he undoubtedly was. He snatched up a handful of floo powder from the flowerpot, tossed it into the grate, and exited the Burrow in a flash of green flames, leaving several people stunned and confused.

So, he had silently intruded on Ron’s big moment. Maybe he couldn’t ruin the ridiculous moment; he was resigned to that, but he could bear witness to it. He watched as Ron, less than eloquently babbled on before he knelt on uncoordinated, gangly limbs and rooted through his pockets. Sirius had rolled his eyes. _How mundane_ , he’d thought. Ron, the dunce, was seriously lacking in the originality department. Hermione deserved a spectacular declaration of love, something thoroughly thought out and then well executed--not this travesty. The thought of Hermione married to that freckle-faced twat was nauseating.

Sirius had then been violently jolted out of his dismal thoughts when out of nowhere figures suddenly appeared in the darkness. He watched in horror as Ron was struck down, not by the killing curse, thank the gods, but it was still disconcerting to watch his face go slack before he keeled over onto his side.

With a ferocious growl, Sirius pulled his wand and ran out the back and was just in time to see Hermione whip out her own wand and attack what he knew were Death Eaters. How the hell did they get passed the wards? She was putting up an amazing fight, shooting off hexes and spells at an unprecedented speed, astonishing him and impressing him all in one fell swoop.

“ _Defodio_ ,” Sirius screamed, smirking when the spell hit its target, ripping out a large chunk of the face of the nearest Death Eater, who fell to ground screeching in agony.

“ _Mobiliarbus_ ,” he heard Hermione yell and watched as a tree uprooted itself and smashed into a Death Eater who had been advancing on him from the side.

Sirius wanted to be able to stay by her side, protect her to the best of his ability, but he had to turn his attention to the three Death Eaters rushing him, wands raised.

“ _Incarcerous_!”

Sirius barely had time to respond with, “ _Protego_ ” to protect himself from the ropes flying at him, but the ropes bounced harmlessly off of his shield. With a fast flick of his wrist he hurled out, “ _Expelliarmus_!” He followed this quicker than lightening strike with, “D _uro_.” The Death Eater who he’d just disarmed turned a slate grey colour, starting at his boots and moving swiftly upward until he was entirely encased in stone, no longer a man. A statue stood in his place.

Before had had a chance to metaphorically congratulate himself, he was being rained upon, and it took him only seconds to realize that the particles falling from the sky were definitely not raindrops. Moisture, yes. But raindrops? No. He was astonished. Hermione Granger, fighter for House Elves Rights, tireless do-gooder, and self-proclaimed person in charge of banishing foul and inappropriate language, had just used a _Confringo_ curse!

Spells were flying everywhere. Sirius was dodging them, using trees and rocks as cover. But they were hopelessly outnumbered, and he wondered why the hell no one had come to investigate. It wasn’t as if they were exactly being quiet, he thought before once again rushing out into the melee only to discover that Hermione had somehow been disarmed and was grappling with the wizard who held her.

When she saw him across the meadow, she screamed, “Sirius!” Freeing one arm, she reached out to him, desperation written all over her face.

_Gods_! He thought in agony, _I have to reach her. I have to save her_! Incensed beyond reason, Sirius mowed down anyone who got in his way.

Dimly, Sirius was aware that there were flashes of light coming from behind, and he realized with relief that, finally, help had arrived. Sirius heard Remus, Tonks, and a mass of other voices shouting spells and counter spells, and it had probably been they who had saved him from serious injury while in his rash, headlong flight toward Hermione. He would have to depend on them still, for he wasn’t going to wait around with his thumb stuck up his arse now that reinforcements had arrived.

He snarled and snapped viciously when he was roughly grabbed by the back of his vest and hauled away from the witch who had been so close he could smell her fresh, clean scent. Sirius turned and barreled into the fucker, rugby-style. It had been an unexpected move on his part, and so the Death Eater scum went down with him in a pile of arms and legs.

Foregoing his wand in this instance, Sirius curled his fist tightly into the fabric of the wizard’s robe, brought his other fist high in the air, and slammed him square in the face. The wizard screamed in pain as Sirius pummeled him repeatedly until there was nothing but a mass of blood, tissue, and bone where once his face had been.

Wiping his bloody and swiftly swelling hand on his once pristine, purple vest, he grasped his wand firmly and with a wild determination ran to where he had last seen Hermione. She was now completely wrapped in the folds of one of the dirty bastards’ robes. She continued to struggle, but her struggles were in vain; her captor was just too strong for the young woman, and without her wand, she was helpless.

Sirius, breathing in deep gasps and with rivers of sweat dripping off of his face, was now only a few feet from Hermione. She looked frightened but unharmed. Though relieved, Sirius was also extremely confused. Why hadn’t the Death Eater killed Hermione? Why was he just standing there, doing nothing? What the hell was happening here?

It was difficult to maintain a strong grip on his wand due to the swelling and throbbing of his hand. At this point, he thoroughly regretted having used it to bash in one of Voldemorts’ brainless buffoons. Nothing to be done for it now, so he’d have to make due as best he could.

Sirius took a step closer but could go no further. His brow creased in frustration and then cleared. The yellow-bellied, arse licking, maggot had used a _Cave Inimicum_ spell. Sirius was tempted to give it a go anyway, but it would have been a wasted effort, and they both knew it. With great reluctance, Sirius lowered his wand.

Sirius could only growl in frustration as the Death Eater took Hermione’s face in his gloved hand, squeezing her cheeks together causing her to let out a whimper of pain. When he bent his head over Hermione’s shoulder, the hood of his robe, whether by chance or design, fell back revealing the face beneath. Recognition hit Sirius swiftly in the gut. _Dolohov_. Seemingly pleased by Sirius’ thunderstruck expression, he added insult to injury by using his tongue to begin a slow, steady lick from Hermione’s jaw to her temple, smacking his lips together when he was done as if savoring the taste.

The revulsion on Sirius’ face matched the similar display on Hermione’s face; the witch began her struggles anew. Dolohov laughed at her attempts, and with slow and precise movements, he shifted his hand, gliding it up the front of her robes until he rested it on her breast. Hermione instantly stilled, her eyes grew wide in abject horror when his fingers began a rhythmic rubbing of the tender flesh hidden beneath her robes. An agonized whimper slid passed her parted lips when he gave her nipple a vicious twist.

Sirius was a fearsome sight, grey eyes bitter and hard, mouth twisted into a ferocious snarl; he was more than ready to bring this bastard down, and he was going to make him suffer the torments of hell for what he was doing to Hermione.

“Dolohov, I am going to take great pleasure in ripping your arm out of its socket and beating you to death with it for touching her. I swear by all that’s holy, I will.”

“I don’t think so, Black.” Dolohov laughed and pulled Hermione closer while grinding his hips into her. “I bet she’s quite the animal in bed. She bit me when I first latched onto her; I’m going to assume by that, that she likes it rough.” His fleshy lips brushed against her ear as he murmured with an evil glint in his eyes, “Not to worry, my little Mudblood, so do I.”

 

The malicious grin he shot at Sirius transformed his face from ugly to hideous, and Sirius knew, he just knew that Dolohov was getting ready to Apparate and take Hermione with him. It was then that Sirius lost all sense of reason.

He began to shake uncontrollably--not from fear or loathing, although he felt both of those things clearly and distinctly. No, it was unadulterated rage, and that rage was the impetus for Sirius’ storehouse of unbridled and heretofore unknown masses of magic to erupt. Sirius had never felt more strong or more alive; his entire being vibrated and hummed. Power rose up and flowed from every pore in his body, coursed through every artery, every vein; it was intoxicating!

But when he went to use this stronghold of powerful magic against Dolohov, he couldn’t, which further enraged him. He let out a frustrated bellow and tried forcing the magic out from this shell he called a body but to no avail. The magic was pulsating. It was there! It was real! Why couldn’t he use it? Why? Why?

In the dark recesses of his mind, he heard the echo of maniacal laughter. It went on and on, endlessly torturing him. He groaned and used both hands to try to hold his head together. He felt as if it was going to explode. The pain was excruciating. He could hear a voice calling to him, entreating, begging. “Hermione,” he hissed before the darkness claimed him.

 

* * *

 

When Severus Snape arrived at the Burrow he wasn’t in the least surprised to find mass pandemonium. In fact, he’d been expecting it. They were all spread out into small groups, each having an emotional melt down of some sort.

Tonks, the clumsy, walking disaster was conversing with Charlie Weasley, both of which were hovering over Ron Weasly, who it was clear had been crying, his face giving testament to that fact as it was far more red and blotchy than normal. Molly had her arm wrapped around him rocking him to and fro, stroking him consolingly on the back of his head, mumbling crooning sounds suitable for a young child; which Severus was sure Ron Weasley understood completely as he had always, in his opinion, exhibited nothing but childish tendencies.

Potter was off in a corner looking shell-shocked, Ginny Weasley sitting close while patting him on the back, no doubt whispering banal words of solace; once again striving to garner the Boy Wonders’ attentions. Severus surmised that she wasn’t as distressed by this turn of events as she was pretending to be, she’d always, for some God-awful reason, been jealous of Miss Granger and her friendship with Potter. He quietly snorted. The silly chit had no taste whatsoever. The twin Weasley’s, instead of standing by the side of their grieving brother, were also dancing attendance to Potter, perhaps they imagined themselves in love with him as well. Severus nearly gagged at the thought.

Severus recognized several students from Hogwarts. Colin and Dennis Creevey, The Patil sisters, Seamus Finnigan, Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom, Dean Thomas, who seemed more concerned by the considerable coddling in which Miss Weasley was administering to our Hopeless Hero, then on the whereabouts of Miss Granger.

The majority of the inhabitants were, in his opinion, a bunch of nattering, imbecilic, fools. There were, of course, a few exceptions but they were indisputably in the minority and notably absent. Shacklebolt must have returned to the Ministry, no doubt to inform them of the events of today. Quickly scanning the rest of the room, he also noticed that Moody, Minerva, and several other key members of The Order were unaccounted for as well.

The matriarch of the Weasly clan accosted him the moment she realized he was in the room. _Typical_ , he sneered to himself.

“Severus, where is she? What have they done? Have they hurt her? Is she… Molly faltered, not being able to finish the sentence, though fearing the worst.

The woman was amazingly predictable, he thought with an internal roll of his eyes. He’d positively keel over in shock if she were to ever actually say something other than the usual mundane drivel which some how managed to pass for words.

“Give me a moment, if you please,” he stated calmly while straightening the folds of his robe. It was annoying having the woman jabber on without giving him the chance to answer one question before bombarding him with another.

Arthur placed his hand on his wife’s shoulder, silently signally her to settle herself and then in a even voice he said, “Give the man a chance to catch his breath, Molly dear.”

_How nauseating_ , Severus thought, grateful that he would never be called upon to offer comfort or sympathy. His reasoning was clear. None was shown to him by this group of misfits, nor anyone else for that matter, therefore that is exactly what they got from him. None.

Taking a deep breath, Severus spoke loud enough for the entire room to hear, he was not going to repeat himself just because some stupid stooge hadn’t been paying attention. “Miss Granger is alive.” A great sigh of relief was expelled from the mouths of all the room’s occupants.

“And Sirius? What about my god-father?” Potter asked quietly from his corner of the room.

Severus would have liked to have ignored the snotty brat but settled for delivering the news. “Regrettably…,” he paused dramatically, reveling in the crushingly devastated expression that had settled on Potters face … that mangy mutt lives as well.”

The Weasley twins grabbed Potter by each arm to prevent him from attacking the cruel man sporting a sadistic smile, knowing full well that Potter would have given anything to have been able to have throttled him silly but couldn’t. Potter knew well enough that he was there only hope of possibly engineering the return of two of the people that he loved the most. It galled the boy to have to count on him of all people. Oh, what jubilant joy to have Potter in his debt.

With evident relish, he continued, “I do not, however, know how long that state of affairs shall last. It is the way of the Dark Lord to play with his toys until he grows weary of them at which point he takes great delight in breaking them into little, unrecognizable pieces.”

“Good Lord, man,” admonished an angry Arthur, “there’s no need to be so graphic!”

“What would you have me do, Arthur,” jeered Severus, his lip curled disdainfully. “Plant false hopes into your feeble brains?

“Yes, you unfeeling, monster, _yes_!” Shouted Molly Weasley, her ample bosom heaving dramatically. “While they’re alive, hope lives as well and don’t you dare say anything to the contrary, Severus Snape!”

“Pu-leeze,” he sneered in reply. “If anyone should know the ways of the Dark Lord, it is I. I have seen it a dozen times before, if Miss Granger and that flea-ridden excuse for a wizard last the week it will be a miracle.” Ignoring the outraged mutterings all around him, he continued. “Dare I remind you of the fate of the Longbottom’s ?”

A choked cry filled the air and he assumed that it had come from Neville Longbottom.

Severus’ head rocked to the side from the force of Molly’s slap. “ _That is enough_ ,” she hissed between clenched teeth.

Ignoring the stinging of his cheek, Severus glared at Molly stating in a quiet, menacing voice, “Woman, do not touch me again.”

It was at this point, the oldest Weasly entered the room with Lupin close behind. Each had their wands out and at the ready.

“Severus, what news is there?” a harried looking Lupin asked.

“I have already given a partial history and I refuse to repeat myself.” Waving his hand toward the people, now grouped together behind Arthur and Molly, all had the same look of disgust written on their faces. ‘You will have to make due with the ramblings of your friends as I am in no doubt ramblings they will be.”

“Fine.” And then what Lupin said next had all of them looking at each other in trepidation. “The wards have definitely been tampered with. Bill and I checked them twice. Don’t worry,” he continued, “We’ve reset them, and Bill put an extra whammy on just to be sure.”

“The disturbing thing is that they were tampered with from the inside.” Bill added, a look of concern etched across his features.

_Ahh_ , Severus thought. _Interesting_. He wondered how long it would take until someone else in the room would reach the same conclusion that he had without it being spoon fed to them.

“But… that would mean,” sputtered Charlie Weasley, “that someone here damaged the wards.”

Lupin nodded his head, Severus noted how exhausted he looked and then realized that the full moon had only been two previous nights ago. Lupin, obviously, barely had time to recover from his painful transformation before having to deal with this whole fiasco.

“Yes,” Bill agreed, looking grim. “There’s no doubt that someone here… in this room… is responsible for the disappearance of Hermione and Sirius.”

* * *


	2. Moody' Maneuvers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moody interrogates the people at The Burrow after it is discovered that someone there tampered with the wards allowing Death Eaters to enter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, the tag of 'some Weasley bashing' has put some readers off this story. The tag was put there to cover all the bases as, in my opinion, there isn't _really_ Weasley bashing in this fic. Harry more or less tells Ron his feelings on Ron deserting him and Hermione when they were out hunting Horcruxes. 
> 
> I will admit to not being overly fond of Ron or Ginny, but that's a personal preference.

 

**Chapter Two**

 

The silence which followed was deafening. It was as if the all of the occupants of the room were simultaneously holding in their breath. Then, several people began speaking at once.

 

“You don’t actually think…”

 

“You can’t honestly believe…”

 

“It’s absolutely…”

 

“True!” a voice bellowed from the kitchen doorway, startling them all. Moody entered the room, his wooden leg and staff thumping off of the floorboards and his artificial eye spinning wildly.

 

“Alastor,” Molly huffed, outraged that anyone would ever think such a thing. “You’re being ridiculous, everyone here loves Hermione, and for you to suggest that one of us would betray her… well, it doesn’t even warrant a second thought!”

 

Severus noticed that Molly hadn’t mentioned Black on that list of who ‘everyone loves’ and while he found it interesting, it wasn’t especially suspicious. Molly had a less than loving attitude toward Black. Ridiculing the impending nuptials between Tweetle-Dumb and Tweetle-Dumber had only served to exacerbate the situation.

 

To be fair, if he must, Miss Granger was most certainly not dumb in the normal sense of the word; she just happened to show a horrendous lack of intellect when it came to her choice in friends. In other circumstances, he would have been impressed with her many accomplishments, even admire her for them. Of course, that opinion would swiftly change if the little chit actually was stupid enough to accept Molly’s brain-dead son.

 

“Or Sirius for that matter,” the Hapless Hero added. “Why would anyone here want something horrible to happen to him?”

 

A chorus of disgruntled “yeahs” and “of courses” followed his statement.

 

“I could think of numerous reasons,” Snape drawled while examining his fingernails with fixed fascination. “Unfortunately, time will not allow for me to wax on and on. Instead, I will say that it was never the plan for Black to be taken. That was a bonus of sorts,” Severus said, deadpanned.

 

“So you knew about the plan…?” George rounded on Snape.

 

“…Why didn’t you stop it?” Fred demanded, his face flushing with anger.

 

Severus didn’t even bother to hide his eye roll that time before addressing the annoying youths. “Even you, in your ignorance, cannot possibly believe that I am privy to all of the Dark Lords’s plans. I was not aware of what was to happen until the last moment, at which point it was too late to inform any of you without alerting the Dark Lord of my true allegiance.”

 

George and Fred snorted their disbelief.

 

“He’s got a reasonable point,” Arthur agreed.

 

“He certainly does,” Moody harrumphed. “If the Dark Lord were to discover the truth, Severus would suffer most grievously and we would be deprived of one of the only advantages we have over that insidious snake.”

 

“What Moody says is true,” Bill remarked, joining the conversation. “Severus is above suspicion.”

 

“What?!” Harry cried, advancing on the adults who had settled in a group by the window. Pointing an accusing finger at Snape, he spat out, “But, he’s a Death Eater, he’s one of _them_.”

 

“Well, I wouldn’t go so far as to say that Severus is above suspicion,” Moody disagreed. “As I said, no one is.” He hesitated before addressing Harry. “I will, however, concede that out of all of us in this room, Snape is the least likely to be the spy.” When Harry opened his mouth to object, he bit out, “He has the most to lose, son. No, it’s most likely not Snape.”

 

Severus mimicked a yawn, as if to thrust home the point that the conversation taking place around him was boring him silly--which, in fact, it was.

 

“Ex-excuse me,” a tentative voice chimed in. Immediately, all eyes switched towards a short, brown-haired boy with a camera strap round his neck. “I was wondering if we could leave?”

 

Moody eyed the youngster warily before asking, “Ain’t you the Creevey lad?”

 

“Yes sir,” he replied, voice shaking. “I’m Colin and this here,” he motioned with his thumb to the kid standing next to him who was, if it was possible, even shorter, “is my brother, Dennis.”

 

Moody startled both boys by rushing towards them as fast as his wooden leg could carry him and towering over them, saying in a voice filled with suspicion, “Don’t recollect either of you being close enough friends to be invited to this here shindig.”

 

Terror widened the boys’ eyes as they took a step back in perfect synchronization. Colin clutched his camera convulsively to his chest as if afraid that Moody would rip it from him.

 

“I invited them,” Molly said while standing protectively in front of the boys. “I thought,” Molly’s throat tightened up painfully but she managed to choke out, “some pictures would be nice, a surprise for Hermione and Ron so they could start a family album of their own.”

 

Arthur handed his wife the handkerchief he’d had stuffed in the inner breast pocket if his robes. She dabbed at the tears pooling in the corner of her eyes while her husband rubbed her back in a rhythmic, comforting manner.

 

“No matter,” Moody informed them in a brusque voice, “they ain’t above suspicion. For all we know might be Molly here, and you two in cahoots with her.”

 

“Alastor Moody!” Molly retorted, anger making her body visibly shake. “What utter rot!”

 

“Now see here,” Arthur exclaimed. “There’s no call for spouting such nonsense.”

 

“Are you calling our mum …”

 

“… a traitor?”

 

“Wise up and get this through your thick skulls,” Moody answered an irate George and Fred, “everyone is a potential traitor.”

 

“Even you?” asked Ginny, hazel eyes spitting fire as she marched over to plant herself next to Harry, taking his hand in a show of support.

 

Moody hesitated before grudgingly agreeing, “Yes, even me, ‘specially so. But let it not be forgotten that it was _you_ who the Dark Lord possessed once upon a time, girlie.”

 

Severus was quite amused at the look of shocked distress, which settled on the Weasley girls face. True to vomit inducing form, her family members swarmed around her in a protective wall of orange headed, freckled faced bodies.

 

“You cannot be serious,” Harry insisted, coming to Ginny’s defense. “Ginny – none of the Weasley’s – would ever do something like that.”

 

“Don’t be an idiot, Potter,” was Moody’s answer. “The traitor is in our midst and we must rout him,” he hesitated, briefly looking in the direction of Ginny, “or her out.” Thumping his staff on the floor once more, with such force that the cups on the table rattled, he bit out angrily, “The traitor is here and whoever that might be, they cannot, and I mean _cannot_ leave the premises! Now, I don’t know bout the rest of you,” he spat out while turning his blue, whirling eye on to each person; his other near wild with speculation, “but I, for one, am not about to stand by and let that witch or wizard walk out of here!”

 

“Calm yourself, Alastor,” Remus said while reaching over to place a hand on his shoulder which was tight with tension. Remus was truly concerned that Alastor would, out of a true desire to help, do something rash.

 

Shrugging Remus’s hand off with a grunt, he turned to him and bellowed, “By thunder, Remus! I expect this sort of ridiculous nonsensical clap-trap reaction from Molly here, but you have a more sensible head on your shoulders! Use it!”

 

“Well I never,” Molly gasped, horribly offended at Moody’s summation of her intellect.

 

“Truer words were never spoken,” Moody grumbled back. “You’re a good woman, Molly,” he continued, almost kindly. “But you let your feelings cloud the more rational spectrum of your noggin. No shame there in the right circumstances, but this is war, war! You’re many a good and kind thing, but a fighter, you ain’t, and that,” he emphasized with a stab of his finger, “is what we need in these dangerous times. Molly, coddle ‘em all you want after we bring down this vile monster, love ‘em to death afterward, but, for the love of Merlin, don’t bring ‘em death cause you love ‘em.”

 

“That’s a bit extreme, don’t you think?” Ginny snapped, speaking for the mass of Weasley children and several unrelated people in the room. “Our mum organized the cleaning up of that dump, Grimmauld Place.” At Harry’s indrawn breath at the slight she made on his godfather’s home, Ginny gripped Harry’s hand more firmly when he made an attempt to pull it from her own, and added in a placating manner. “You know it’s true, Harry. It would still be crawling with doxies and other dark magical objects if not for my mum.”

 

Hurt by Moody’s words, Molly admitted, while wiping her hands down the sides of the skirt, “I know I’m not much use to the Order the way most the members are. I don’t put my life in danger every day like Severus. I don’t go searching out the giants the other werewolves and such like Remus and Hagrid. And I am far more comfortable waving around a serving spoon than a wand, but I do what I can.”

 

“You’re a major contributor to the Order, Molly.” Remus said, while shooting a glare at Moody who turned away with a huff. “You offer comfort when the rest of us get caught up in the less than pleasant aspects of this mess,” Remus smiled. “You keep us human, Molly, when we could easily slip over that line to being cold, cruel and calculating with Machiavellian tendencies; not unlike that of Voldemort. I, for one, appreciate all you’ve done.”

 

Molly’s lips trembled and her brown eyes filled with tears of gratitude. “Thank you,” She breathed quietly.

 

“All right, all right,” Moody sighed. “That much is true. My apologies, Molly.”

 

Molly merely sniffed.

 

After a brief, uncomfortable silence Bill stated, “Back to our current problem.” Focusing everyone’s attention on to the issue at hand. “We’ve got to stick to why we’re all still here and not on our way to our perspective homes.”

 

“I need to go home,” Another previously unheard voice piped up. “My grandmother will be worried.”

 

“Mister Longbottom, I presume?” Moody eyed the tall boy with the sandy brown hair curiously. “You have the strong look of your father, but I can see you're blessed by your mum in the nose and brow.”

 

Neville’s smile was strained. “My Gran says the same.” He knew it from his many visits to St. Mungo’s, too. “She’s a real stickler for being on time. She’s gonna tear my ear off for being late.”

 

Much to everyone’s surprise, Moody chuckled, his good eye twinkling merrily. “Yep, that’s your grandmother all right. One of the finest witches of my acquaintance - brooks no nonsense neither, handy with a hex or two if I recall," Moody said, winking at Neville. “She was a real firecracker in her day.”

 

Neville’s response was less than enthusiastic after having been on the receiving end of a few of his Gran’s disciplinary measures, both magical and non. “That’d be her.”

 

“Sorry, son… no one leaves,” and, again, to everyone's surprise he did sound apologetic. “Gus would understand. She might not have been in the Order, but she was real proud of your parents and the sacrifices they made.”

 

Neville gave a confused nod, not sure what to make of Moody’s comments on his Gran. No one in his entire life, that he could recall, had ever called his indomitable Gran anything other than Madam Longbottom, ma’am or, if they were on a less formal footing, Augusta. But _Gus_?

 

“Our parents will wonder where we are, too,” that came from a pretty, dark-skinned girl with a mirror image of her exotic appearance standing next to her and stated, “We can’t just not show up.”

 

“At least let the children leave,” Molly said, ever the motherly figure.

 

“We’ll owl ‘em. Say the party has turned into an all-nighter,” Moody replied. “That should placate ‘em.”

 

And it would, too. The parents would have no problem what-so-ever as they knew that Arthur and Molly would keep a steady eye on their children and would never allow it to turn into a drunken free for all. The fact that it was a special occasion was another point in their favor.

 

“Oh? And how will the owls get out? The wards will keep them in. And we only have two owls here, ours and Harry’s,” Ginny said, sounding snotty and triumphant all in one fell swoop.

 

Moody was starting to get annoyed with Arthur’s brat and becoming more and more suspicious of this little smart-alecky red-head. Especially since she hadn’t once commented on the well-being of Hermione, nor Sirius for that matter, but Alastor didn’t expect her to question his safety. Sirius was an adult and she probably assumed he was well able to take care of himself. If she only knew. In the hands of Voldemort… no one, no matter how competent, was safe.

 

Raising his hairy eyebrows, Moody said one word, “Bill.”

 

“I’m on it,” Bill assured Moody while heading for the back door.

 

Leaning on his staff once more and giving Ginny the full benefit of his rather disconcerting fake blue eye, he stated, just as triumphantly, “We’ll use the owls we have here and send one to these lassies home,” indicating Padma and Parvati. “And the other to theirs,” pointing to the Creevey boys. “As for the rest? I’m thinking a Patronus will work just fine.”

 

Harry was confused and asked, “Can you do that? I thought Patronus’s were only used in emergency situations.”

 

“Well, generally that’s true,” Moody, agreed. “But it shouldn’t give anyone any cause for alarm.” Smiling again, he said, “It might set Gus to a wondering, but she’ll trust in our judgment.” Speaking to Neville, he assured, “Don’t worry, boy, I’ll make sure you go through life with both your ears intact.”

 

“Th…th… thanks?” Neville stuttered, with a look of baffled gratefulness on his face.

 

“I’ll go get Hedwig,” Harry exited the room. Ginny’s eyes followed him with a yearning that those who still remained, other than Dean, did not miss.

 

“I’ll get Errol,” Ginny volunteered, though not through any real helpful intentions, but more so to be in the same room as Harry.

 

“You do that,” Moody grumbled, whispering under his breath, “and good riddance.”

 

Molly grabbed parchment, quill and an ink pot from one of the kitchen drawers and hastily penned out two notes basically saying what Alastor had suggested. Short and simple was probably best.

 

“What about those who have already left?” Severus enquired, face bland. “Minerva, Kingsley, and Black's vertically challenged cousin?”

 

Moody eyed Severus seriously. “Agreed, there’s always that possibility, but I think not.”

 

Severus didn’t think so either, adding fodder to the fire beneath this cauldron was just too good to pass up. If he could, he would have rubbed his hands together in glee, such was his pleasure in all of this mayhem and madness. Assisting in the rescue of that beatnik Black was an absolute kill-joy for this amazing buzz.

 

“Boy,” Moody barked, addressing the still distraught looking Ron. “What happened, and don’t leave anything out! Every word, movement, gesture, or sound could be a clue.” When Ron didn’t immediately respond, Moody slammed his staff on the floor, causing Ron to start in surprise. Then Moody ordered, “Come on, come on, we don’t have time for your histrionics!”

 

Ron lifted his red, blotchy face. He opened his mouth, but all that emerged was a choked sob while tears continued to flow freely and copiously down his cheeks. He looked lost, shocked, and emotionally drained – in other words, totally useless. Moody couldn’t keep back the frustrated snort that escaped his mouth at the sight.

 

“Can _anyone_ here tell me something I don’t already know? Did anyone see anything?”

 

In the midst of the crowd of students, a small hand waved in the air.

 

Moody’s one good eye lit up. “Well, come on, come on. Don’t be shy, step forward! Step forward!” Moody demanded.

 

A young girl that Severus recognized as Lavender Brown, made her way through the clump of Hogwarts students.

 

“Well?” Moody barked out the single word.

 

“I… I was thirsty so I was going to the kitchen for some punch,” she hesitated.

 

“And?!” Moody, sounding impatient, hurried her along.

 

“Mister Black was standing at the window,” she had everyone’s full attention at the mention of Sirius’s name and didn’t the little chit look as if she was enjoying it all. “I guess he was watching Ron and Hermione.” Lavender cast her eyes downward, she hoped nobody would guess that her own intentions had been the same. “When, all of a sudden, he pulled his wand from his waistcoat and started running out the back.”

 

Rubbing his hair roughened jaw, Moody asked, “and what, pray tell, were you doing whilst Sirius was running out the door?” It was clear he thought there was much more to this story.

 

Looking flustered, Lavender reiterated, “Like I said, getting a drink.”

 

“Balderdash!” he exclaimed. “What else?!” Without giving her an opportunity to explain herself, Moody plowed on, “why didn’t you call for someone? Didn’t you find it odd that Sirius rushed outside?” When she didn’t reply, just stood there shaking, Moody roared, “Well, didn’t you?”

 

“I just didn’t think about it at the time. I’m so sorry,” she wailed and then burst into tears. When Moody turned away in disgust, Lavender excitedly said, “Wait!” wiping her hand across her face, “I did see something else.”

 

“Thought you were only getting a drink.” Moody reminded her, sounding even more suspicious.

 

“I was…” she sputtered. “But after Mister Black left I went to the window myself.”

 

“Being nosy, no doubt,” Moody guessed.

 

The flush that crawled up Lavender’s face was answer enough.

 

“Hopefully your nosiness will pay off. Go on… what else? What did you see?” Moody groused, sounding more and more impatient at the snail-like pace of Lavender’s answers.

 

“At first I couldn’t see a thing because of all the flashes of light,” she bit her lip.

 

“Death Eaters,” Remus proclaimed with certainty.

 

Her smooth brow creased then Lavender said, “No, not at first.” At Moody’s narrow-eyed examination, she hurriedly declared, “They were there, I swear, but I didn’t see them right away. I was distracted by the lights that were exploding out of the corner of my eye.”

 

“The corner of your eye?” Remus questioned her. “You mean in front of you, right?”

 

Scrunching her face up, she replied, “No, the corner. I remember because I turned to look and I was blinded by all the lights. I saw spots for a bit and when I could see again, Death Eaters were everywhere.” Her voice wavered, “Then I saw Ron kinda fall over.” Pushing her hair behind her ear she gulped back a sob, “I thought he was dead. It was awful!”

 

“Fall apart at a more convenient time, if you please!” Moody bellowed. “What else?”

 

“That’s all, really. After that,” she flushed again, this time with shame. “I hid.”

 

Moody gaped. “You hid? You _hid_?! Valuable time was a wasten’ whilst you were being a coward!”

 

Her face crumpled completely. “I was scared!” She wailed even louder than before.

 

Lavender fully expected someone, anyone to come to her defense. Not one of her school mates, not even Padma, said a word. She sent a side-ways glance toward Ron, but he had his face buried in his hands once more. Biting her lip she caught Professor Lupin’s eye, silently begging him to come to her rescue. He did not disappoint.

 

“Alastor,” he quietly admonished. “She’s not to blame. We’ve all been there; her actions were natural enough when faced with such a situation.”

 

“By thunder, Remus – all of you – as a matter of fact.” He directed his remarks to the adults in the room. “You’re too soft on ‘em! We don’t have time to coddle the youngsters! We gotta get ‘em battle ready!”

 

“Well, really,” Molly retorted.

 

“Yes, really!” Moody stated, in no mood for Molly’s indulgent attitude toward ‘the children’ as she referred to them. “We’ve wasted too much time as it is. Valuable time that could have been more wisely spent teaching these young witches and wizards – I’ll concede that much—the ways of defensive and offensive magic! But mind me Molly,” Moody continued, undeterred by the furious faces around him. “If they’d been trained proper we might – just might – have Sirius and Hermione here with us now.”

 

“Personally, I’d like to know what those mysterious lights were.” Arthur intervened, eager to get off of a subject that had been a bone of contention between certain members of the Order for quite some time.

 

“As would I,” Remus agreed, curious as to what Lavender really had seen. “It might be an important factor into all of this. Miss Brown,” Remus prodded gently, “think… are you sure you don’t remember anything else?”

 

Lavender shook her head. “I’m sorry professor,” she answered, while wiping her nose on the sleeve of her robes.

 

“It’s my fault,” Ron uttered mournfully; speaking for the first time since Severus had arrived.

 

“No, son,” Arthur argued. “There was nothing you could have done. We were all taken by surprise.”

 

“I should have been more vigilant,” Ron stated, while glancing in Moody’s direction, who nodded in agreement.

 

“Don’t beat yourself up, Ron,” Charlie interjected, attempting some form of consolation. Scratching behind his ear, he continued, “But what I don’t quite get is how none of us got hurt.”

 

Silence descended once more because Charlie was right.

 

“That thought occurred to me as well,” Remus spoke, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Not one actual death curse had been used, most unusual.” Turning toward the only Death Eater in the room, he asked the question that had been on his mind since he’d realized that all were all basically unharmed with nary a mark to show for the skirmish they’d just been involved in. “Why?”

 

“It could very well have been dumb luck that no one was hurt,” Charlie butted in before Severus had a chance to answer. “The wards might not have been breached from the inside at all. We shouldn’t automatically assume that just because no one was injured there must be a Voldemort supporter hidden amongst us.”

 

“I’m surrounded by morons,” Severus bemoaned. “Of course they were tampered with from the inside,” he sneered. “Don’t be a dunderhead if you can help it, Weasly, although, heredity dictates otherwise. The wards held steady against our initial attempts to break through.” Looking down his nose at Bill, who had returned with Ginny and Harry after releasing the owls, he snidely remarked, “Congratulations on a job well done. Therefore,” Severus snapped, “we could not have gotten through without the assistance of someone here.”

 

“If you’ve quite finished insulting my family, perhaps you can answer Remus’s question,” Arthur snapped back.

 

Sighing dramatically, Severus continued, “The Dark Lord ordered it so. The target was to be Miss Granger. As to why he showed mercy to the rest of you, and I assure you he did, I am uncertain.”

 

Scratching his chin again, Moody muttered, “The rent in the wards was huge, which is why so many Death Eaters managed to slip in. They could have swarmed the house, but they didn’t. They could have killed young Weasley here,” he used his thumb to indicate Ron. “But they didn’t, why?”

 

“Is that why you think it’s someone in the house who messed with the wards?” asked a tall black boy standing next to Ginny.

 

“And who might you be?”

 

“Dean Thomas, sir. Ginny’s boyfriend.”

 

“Is that so?” Moody questioned, his tone disbelieving.

 

Frowning, Dean straightened his shoulders before stating unequivocally, “Yes, sir.” Noticing Moody’s pointed look in Harry’s direction, Dean explained, “They’re just friends.” Dean looked to Harry for confirmation, who gave it with a nod of his head. “If that weren’t the case, wouldn’t I want to get rid of Harry instead of Hermione?” Dean asked.

 

Hesitating, while weighing Dean’s words, he grudgingly grunted, “That makes sense.” Then, as if another thought just struck him, Moody offered up another suggestion. “Unless, of course, you are the traitor and suspected that Harry here would be made vulnerable at the loss of Miss Granger. There’s a thought.”

 

Dean paled alarmingly.

 

“You leave him alone; you washed up, paranoid alcoholic!”

 

“Ginerva Weasley!” Molly fairly screeched at her daughter. “You apologize this instant, immediately!”

 

Setting her jaw in a stubborn line, Ginny angrily mumbled, “I will not! It’s the truth and everyone knows it. That’s not exactly pumpkin juice he’s got in that flask.” Pointing to the slim, ornate object securely attached to Moody’s belt. “He comes in here accusing us of all manner of horrible deeds, which makes it clear he’s not right in the head!”

 

Leaning on his staff, Moody crossed one ankle over the other. “See here, missy, I make no bones about my drinking every now and again and as you say ‘everyone knows it.’ Listen and listen good, I don’t give a rat’s ass about it or what you or anyone else thinks. At least I’m not hiding or, should I say, attempting to hide my addiction. Not that you’re doing a very fine job of it!”

 

The reference was clear. Even Harry had caught on, biting his lip and looking massively uncomfortable. A flush of brilliant red color suffused Ginny’s face and neck. Whether out of anger or embarrassment, Moody didn’t know nor did he care.

 

“As entertaining as all this is,” Severus smirked, “perhaps we should return to the subject at hand.” Severus was of the opinion that the retired auror, be he drunk or not, just might be onto something. “The Dark Lord is well aware of the extensive contribution in which Miss Granger has supplied your cause,” Severus informed the group. “It is quite possible, as Moody suggests, that in order to cripple the Order, not to mention Mister Potter, Miss Granger was taken. But I do believe there is much more to this abduction.”

 

“Such as?” Remus questioned.

 

Shrugging his shoulders, Severus admitted, “I do not know, but I will attempt to discover why it was so important to capture Miss Granger alive.”

 

“And Sirius,” Harry interjected. “Find out why Voldemort wanted him, too.”

 

“It appears as if you listen as well outside of class as you do while inside, Potter,” Severus stated, snidely. “Which is to say, not at all. I’ve already explained that Black was not part of the Dark Lord’s plan. Do I have to spell it out for you slowly so that you can keep up or do you think you can manage to retain the information in that pea-sized brain for more than five seconds?”

 

Gritting his teeth, Harry stated, with firm conviction, “You’ve made it more than obvious that you can’t stand Sirius, so you better not forget about my godfather, Snape!”

 

“Threats, Potter?” Severus asked, smirking. “How quaint.”

 

“Severus, please,” Remus interrupted. “Baiting Harry is pointless not to mention cruel in this particular situation.”

 

Severus said nothing, merely turning away. Lupin, though guilty by association with the elder Potter and Black, had not actually taken part in making his days at Hogwarts miserable with those other two loathsome cockroaches. Through the years, and while associating with Lupin by way of the Order, Lupin had managed to garner a smidgeon of respect in Severus’ eyes.

 

Suddenly, gripping his arm, Severus hissed, “The Dark Lord calls, I must go.”

 

“This way,” Bill indicated towards the door with his head. “I’ll open a slit in the wards so you can get out.”

 

“How will he…?” George wondered out loud.

 

“… explain that to snake face?” Fred finished.

 

“Your idiocy is of an astonishingly large proportion,” Snape snapped. “The Dark Lord will naturally assume that the Order continues to be hood-winked as to my true allegiance. The Order will therefore allow me to leave to discover what is or has become of Miss Granger and Black. The Dark Lord will then assume that I will report back erroneous information to you all.”

 

Feeling like the idiot Snape claimed he was, Fred muttered, with a glare, “Fine. Whatever.”

 

Snape followed Bill out to the backyard discussing quietly where they were going to breach the wards so that Snape could apparate back to the Dark Lord’s home base.

 

“I would have preferred to have had Severus do this,” Moody loudly grumbled after Snape had gone. “No help for it now, I suppose,” clearly unhappy, he grunted. “So… let’s begin the interrogations. Anyone else here proficient in Legilimency?”

 

“You can’t do that!” proclaimed another young man who Moody didn’t recognize by sight. “That’s… that’s illegal.”

 

“And you are?” Moody asked in a frustrated voice. He just wanted to get down to business, all this him-hawing around went against his nature as a person and as an ex-auror.

 

Squaring his shoulders, the young man belligerently stated, “Seamus Finnigan and I, for one, refuse to be bullied into any of this crap!”

 

“Well, buck up Mister Attitude because Legilimency is not illegal. Somewhat intrusive? Yes. Easily abused? Certainly.” Once more, Moody gave Ginny a meaningful passing glance as he added with relish, “Potentially embarrassing? Most likely. Dangerous if performed incorrectly? Unfortunately, true.” Seeing the relief on more than one person’s face, thinking there was no way anyone would purposefully dabble in something potentially harmful, Moody quickly disabused that thought, “But not illegal! So… is anyone proficient in that area?”

 

“Mione was,” Harry whispered. Shaking his head in the negative, he stated more adamantly, “Is! Hermione is!” Until he had definite proof Hermione, in his mind, was still alive as was his godfather.

 

Ron’s head jerked up. “Huh? What the bloody blue blazes are you talking about?!”

 

Looking slightly ashamed, Harry admitted, “Hermione knew how to do it. She practiced for hours while we were hunting the Horcruxes.” A search that had yielded very little results, to both their dismay.

 

“Why didn’t you guys tell me?” Ron demanded, sounding hurt.

 

Shrugging, Harry answered in a tired voice, “What for, Ron? It was just something she did when she wasn’t reading that book Dumbledore gave her or the other one million she’d drug around in that bottomless sack of hers.” Harry finished with a small reminiscent smile and then added, “Half of the time we were bored silly and the other half we were scared out of our wits. We had time on our hands and you know Hermione, never one to waste time.”

 

“Still, you could have told me,” Ron griped, his face flushing angrily.

 

Ron didn’t know the half of it. There was plenty that they hadn’t told him. If they had, Ron would be even more pissed than he obviously was now. Like how close he and Hermione had become after he’d left them. They’d depended on each other, not only because they were best friends, but because they had no one else. It forged a bond, a strong one. It was the sort that nothing short of death could destroy and went way beyond whatever feelings of friendship Harry had for Ron. There were no complexities involved. It was relatively simple: Hermione had stayed and Ron had not.

 

One of their most recent and biggest secrets that they’d been keeping to themselves was that he and Hermione had been planning on going back out to search for more of the Horcruxes. She hadn’t been at all happy when he’d told her, point blank, that he didn’t want Ron to go with them again. She’d vehemently argued against his decision and it wasn’t until he’d told her she was welcome to stay back, too, that she’d reluctantly relented.

 

There had been another reason. Hermione and he had intended to ask Sirius how they could become Animagi. It would be difficult enough task without all the animosity between Ron and Sirius making it more so. Harry wouldn’t have put it past Ron to try to talk Hermione out of it from nothing other than spite and unwarranted jealousy on his part. In Harry’s mind, that was not a delay they could afford.

 

Learning the technical procedure through textbook guides had been Hermione’s initial suggestion. Still, there was no arguing against that fact that, in this case, tapping into first-hand know how would yield faster and better results. It had been one of those rare moments where Harry had out-smarted Hermione’s.

 

As to Hermione marrying Ron? Well, that would have put the kibosh to all their careful planning. So, the sorry sad truth was that Harry had had to work up a smile – hard – when Ron had confided in him as to that evening’s agenda. Sad and stunned hadn’t been the only feelings racing through Harry at the news. To be honest he’d been a bit scared, too. Yet when Ron’s wholesome face had beamed brighter than the mid-day sun how could Harry do anything, but clap him on the shoulder and wish him well?

 

“Harry, that’s quite a difficult talent to master,” Remus reminded him, skeptical. “It has very intricate components, not to mention the fact that in order for one to become truly adept one must work on it diligently. It’s also very time-consuming and while I don’t doubt that Hermione had time to do so and would definitely be up to the challenge, there’s still the matter of the actual physical aspect behind it all. Knowledge, though invaluable, is not enough. Practice is paramount to success and unless she practiced on you…”

 

Remus’s words trailed off as Harry cleared his throat and ran a hand through his thick, messy mop of dark hair and shuffled his feet awkwardly as his lips worked themselves into a nervous smile.

 

“Harry, you didn’t!” Molly gasped, her hand pressed to her chest over the area of her heart. “Why would you ever?”

 

“Why not?” Harry demanded, his face set in a mutinous expression. “Hermione’s my friend, I trusted her not to go knocking about in areas that were private.”

 

“Harry,” Remus grabbed him by the shoulders. “You never, _never_ let someone who isn’t proficient in Legilimency go traipsing through your mind! Never!” Remus enunciated the word with uncharacteristic urgency.

 

Forcefully pulling away from Remus, Harry yelled, “No one seemed concerned about my mind or my personal memories when Snape stampeded through them!”

 

“That was different, laddie,” Moody quietly informed him. “Severus was trying to teach you how to keep Voldemort from entering your dreams and your mind. In order to teach you Occlumency he had to use Legilimency as a way to build up your resistance. You needed to learn how to defend yourself against an attack.”

 

“Mione didn’t attack me!” Harry threw his arms up in frustration. “I let her inside. I invited her in! Snape,” Harry spat the name as if it were a foul word. “Is the one who all, but raped my mind, it was that… that bat man wannabe who attacked me!”

 

Wiping a hand down his face, Remus commented with a tired groan, “If you let her in, Harry… if you didn’t try to keep her out, then the whole attempt was pointless. Pointless and dangerous. Can’t you see that?”

 

Harry breathed in deeply several times in order to gain control. He was working himself up into a massive head-ache. These people, his friends; just didn’t get it.

 

“I’m not a dunce, you know. We knew that I’d have to resist her, I do remember some of what Snape was trying to ‘teach’ me.” Crossing his arms over his chest, Harry snorted, “What a joke. That bastard just wanted to mess with me and ridicule my most private memories.”

 

“That’s not strictly true and you know it.” Remus remarked, sticking up for Snape in a way which made Harry’s stomach turn. “At Dumbledore’s request, Severus made an effort to educate you in the ways of Occlumency. Granted, he could have handled it better.”

 

“Yeah, he sure was doing Dumbledore a favor,” Harry sneered, not unlike Snape himself. A fact, that if pointed out to him, Harry would have found horrific. “The minute I caught a glimpse inside his twisted head, all bets were off. _Gee_ , I can totally see why his allegiance is never questioned by any of you!”

 

“Back up there, son,” Moody ordered. “You saw inside Severus’s mind? Now that’s mighty interesting. Mighty interesting.”

 

“That’s putting it mildly,” Remus said, sounding impressed.

 

“Why? What’s so bloody important about that?” Ron asked while accepting a cup of pumpkin juice from his mum who had retrieved it from the table. Taking a sip, he grimaced at the taste. It was warm. Molly waved her wand while whispering a cooling charm. Ron gave his mum a smile of gratitude before gulping down its contents. Licking his lips, he once more asked, “What’s the big deal?”

 

“It’s highly unusual for that sort of thing to happen,” Remus explained to the perplexed crowd. “Generally, only those who are trained can turn Legilimency around on to the person performing the original spell. It’s especially odd considering Severus is one of the most gifted, so much so that he can keep his true intentions hidden from Voldemort. Therefore, for Harry to slip so easily – and I’m assuming it was easily,” Remus looked to Harry for confirmation and got it with a brief nod, “is a remarkable feat.”

 

“It wasn’t on purpose. It was totally accidental,” Harry insisted. “I wasn’t even trying to go into that slimy git’s nasty head. He thought I was a hopeless, useless berk and he resented having to do anything that might help me.” Bastard. “He probably wasn’t even trying to shield himself from me,” Harry explained, still not getting what all the brouhaha was about. “I just sorta slipped in there. It was only for a moment. Believe me, it wasn’t any great feat, but boy did he freak out.” He was sorely tempted to tell everyone here the embarrassing scene he’d witnessed but kept it to himself. Snape hadn’t mentioned what he’d seen in Harry’s own head and while it grated, Harry was grateful for it.

 

“We’ll get back to that in a moment. What I want to know now is how things went with Hermione and you when you were working on this little venture while you were bored silly,” Moody insisted.

 

Harry sighed, again. “We just… I don’t know; thought of it one day. We’d finished setting up camp, we’d walked what seemed like miles and we were both real tired, but couldn’t sleep.” Harry used his fingers to rub at his blood-shot eyes and then said, “She was flipping through a book and I was…” Harry stopped.

 

He’d been looking at the dots on the Marauders Map, angrily searching for the one bearing Ron’s name. It hadn’t been there no matter how often or how long he spent bent over it.

 

Did he really want to tell all these people, one of which, who was more than likely a traitor about the existence of the map? No, he did not. “… I wasn’t doing anything special,” he lied. “I was just kind of listening to Hermione. She was reading out loud.” That part, at least, had been true.

 

* * *

  
**FLASHBACK**

 

“Listen to this, Harry.” Hermione’s excited voice diverted him from his task. “Occlumency can be used as an offensive measure as well as a defensive one, though it is more widely known to be used in the manner of the latter. In fact, if utilized properly, one can plant false memories in ones own mind so as to lead astray any attempt made by way of Legilimency to delve into the mind of another.”

 

Harry twisted his head to glance over his shoulder. At his confused look, Hermione jumped from the cot crossing the room to where he sat on one of the ottomans. Hurriedly, he folded the map and stuck it under one of his thighs.

 

He’d had his back to Hermione so that she couldn’t see what he’d been doing. The first few times he’d searched for Ron on the map, Hermione had hung over his shoulder her eyes running avidly over the parchment. Harry would watch in despair as the light died from her eyes each time Ron’s dot had remained elusive. She would go to her cot, lie down, turn away from him, and pull the covers up until they almost covered her head completely. Then, she would cry. And each time that had happened, Harry felt the resentment and anger building up inside until he’d been almost consumed by the near hatred he’d experienced at Ron’s departure and subsequent perceived betrayal.

 

**END FLASHBACK**   


 

* * *

Moody sternly regarded him before asking, “You sure about that?”

 

Fidgeting under his stare, Harry firmly stated, and with a touch of defensiveness, “Yes.”

 

Harry failed to see how informing anyone there that it had been Hermione’s depression that had been the initial reason behind his agreement to participate in the Legilimency and Occlumency lessons. Hermione had perked up considerably, her eyes alight with that familiar eager to learn glow. Her body had fairly vibrated with energy and enthusiasm at her discovery. It was something that had been lacking for quite some time and he wasn’t about to turn that renewed hopefulness aside. So, when Hermione had suggested they practice the technique he’d been all for it.

 

 

* * *

**SECOND FLASHBACK**

 

“Don’t you see, Harry?” Hermione had exclaimed, nearly jumping up and down. “If you can master this then if Voldemort were to slip into your memories or your mind or whatever it is he does… you could flash him the false ones and have him sending his Death Eaters all over the nation with him none the wiser!” Grabbing his hands, she grinned, “Do you know what that means? All we’d have to do is wait for your scar,” she gently touched his forehead, “to hurt a bit and then hit him with the faux memory or thought. We could then travel safely and without worry or fear because they wouldn’t be anywhere near us! We’d have carte blanch while looking for the Horcruxes. It’s perfect!”

 

Harry’s face had broken out into a broad grin, matching the one on Hermione’s face.

 

**SECOND FLASHBACK**   


 

* * *

 

Harry could tell the Order that much, at least. After he finished doing just that, Remus breathed, “She’s absolutely brilliant!”

 

“That she is,” Moody agreed, immense pride in Hermione etched into those three simple words.

 

Remus’s brow creased, he thought for a moment before finally slowly saying, “I consider myself a widely read wizard and, to be honest, I don’t recall finding or reading a book on that particular usage on the subject matter.” Turning a searching look to his former pupil, he asked, “Where did she get the book, Harry?”

 

Harry was relieved to be able to look Remus in the eyes and say, honestly and truthfully, “I don’t know.”

 

“Did it work?” was the simple question that issued from young Colin.

 

Moody growled, “How come you want to know?” Moody then began peppering Colin with questions alternating them with statements faster than lightening. “What’s it to you? Mighty questionable, I’d say. Think it’s important, do you? Why? Yes, indeed, makes me wonder.”

 

Colin cowered against his brother, chewing on his lip in agitation and fear, wishing he was anywhere, but there.

 

“You stop that this instant, Alastor Moody,” Molly demanded. “This instant, I say!”

 

“Moody, stop treating the kid like a criminal. He only asked the question we all want the answer to,” Bill tiredly sighed, pretty much put out by Moody’s continued grilling of his family and their friends.

 

“This is getting us nowhere,” Remus ran a hand through his hair, looking both frustrated and annoyed. “We have to stop running around in pointless circles.”

 

Moody grunted, “Harry… start talkin’, boy. How far did you and Hermione get in this training?”

 

“Not too far,” Harry admitted, his disappointment clear. “By that point we’d reached Godric’s Hollow and set out looking for one of the Horcruxes.” He wasn’t going to tell them about stopping by his parents’s grave. Maybe he’d tell Remus and Sirius later, they’d want to know, but no one else. It was, yet again, something private, shared only between him and Hermione. “I did manage to block Hermione a few times.” Looking down, he mumbled, “but I don’t know how hard she was really trying. She said she wasn’t holding back.” He shrugged, “I assume she was telling the truth, but you know Hermione, she’s looks out for her friends and might not have wanted to hurt me.”

 

Moody grunted. “There is that, but somehow I think not. Hermione’s not a limp rag when it comes to that monster and his evil ways. She’s got spunk! No matter how close a friends you are, her first aim would be for you to be able to protect yourself.”

 

“Still could’ve mentioned it,” Ron proclaimed, sounding disgruntled. “It wasn’t the actions of a best mate to keep things like that from me.” Ron heatedly continued, “That right there was bad enough, but for Hermione it’s doubly worse! It’s not right keeping things – secrets – from your husband.”

 

Molly nodded in agreement.

 

“You’re not married yet!” Harry retorted, his face deeply flushing. “ _She_ did not betray _you_ so stop sounding like an addled idiot!”

 

Jumping to his feet, Ron crossed the room to stand in front of Harry. “What you really mean is that I betrayed her, don’t you? Betrayed you both?!” His own face an alarming shade of red, Ron shouted, “She forgave me! She knows the truth!”

 

Green eyes narrowed, Harry spat out with venom, “She sure does, but she’d never say it out loud. Hermione’s too good for that, but I’m not too good to tell the truth, the real truth, and the real truth is you were a fucking coward, Ron. A fucking coward!”

 

Appalled, Ginny grabbed Harry by the arm and said, “Harry…”

 

“Get off me!” Harry shoved her hand away as if it were contaminated. Turning on her, he hissed, “You’re just as bad!” Ginny flinched. “Think I don’t know how you really feel about her? You pretend to be her friend, but inside here,” Harry pointed to his chest. “Inside, here… you’re eaten up with jealousy!”

 

Ginny wanted to be able to dispute his claims, wanted to be able to honestly say that Hermione was her friend, even opened her mouth to do so, but Harry got there first.

 

“Don’t even bother,” he stated, contempt oozing from his eyes.

 

Ron grabbed Harry by the front of his robes, hauling him close. “You’re outta line, mate. That’s my sister you’re talking about and she’s been nothing, but a good friend to you and Hermione.”

 

Oh yeah, stand up for Ginny, but not for yourself. It was clear to Harry why he hadn’t; deep down Ron knew the real truth, too.

 

Harry almost laughed out loud, but settled for asking, in stupefaction, “How can you be such a blind arse?”

 

“That is enough, the both of you!” Molly scolded them, severely. “Ronald, let Harry go and, Harry…” shaking her head, sadly, she quietly breathed, “how can you say such things?” _It has to be the stress of the situation. There’s no other answer for it_ , she thought with a sinking heart. “You and Hermione are family to us.”

 

Still gripping Harry’s robes, Ron exclaimed, “Looks as if Harry’s forgotten that, mum. Family doesn’t turn on each other!”

 

Thrusting his face mere inches from Ron’s, Harry pressed his point home, “Damn straight they don’t and they don’t desert each other when they need them the most!”

 

Ron had no comeback for that one and everyone in the room knew it. Slowly, he released Harry. “You’re right, Harry, family sticks by each other, but they also forgive the mistakes that they make. I made a mistake, a big one and no one knows that better than me. I have to live with that. Do you think it’s easy? Every time…” Ron’s voice cracked, “every time I look at you and Hermione, I’m reminded of how I let you down and it kills me, Harry. It kills me.”

 

“I wish I could believe that,” Harry whispered, despair evident in his voice.

 

“Why can’t you?” Ron questioned, sounding equally agonized. “Why?”

 

Harry flatly stated, “You don’t know what it was like for her, you leaving like that. She waited every day for you to return, and was certain that you would. You didn’t see the hope die on her face at the end of those days when it didn’t happen. The days were awful, but it was the nights… the nights were the worst.” Harry stared off into space, clearly lost in memories of the past. “Hermione cried, every night… every stinking, blasted night and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it, nothing.” Turning his dead gaze back to Ron, he said, with no intonation, “You were killing her and as I watched a piece of her die day after hopeless day, something died in me, too.”

 

Ron visibly slumped. “You hate me.”

 

“I don’t hate you, Ron,” Harry disagreed, sighing tiredly. “But I don’t trust you like I used to.” If at all, he added to himself. “You can’t expect everything to be the way it was, too much has happened and we can’t pretend that it didn’t. We’re not the same people so stop trying to shove us back into those self-proclaimed - and proclaimed by others – roles. You’re not good ‘ole Ron, side-kick to the great Harry Potter. I’m not The Boy Who Lived, savior of the wizarding world.” At least, I hope not. “And Hermione’s not the Queen of Swots and little Miss Know-it-all! We’re beyond all that, don’t you get it?” Harry demanded, exasperated. “We’ve seen and experienced far too much to go back. I wish I could, Ron; I wish we all could go back… back to when things weren’t as crazy as they are now. Gods, do I ever!”

 

Harry’s earlier headache, which had been annoying, but not too much to bear, began to thump with a vengeance. His stomach set up a similar protest and Harry knew that he needed to get to the sink as quickly as possible. George steadied him by the shoulders as Harry all, but staggered past him.

 

Alarmed, several people converged on Harry at once.

 

“What is it?” Mrs. Weasley’s concerned visage wavered erratically in front of him.

 

“Are you going to be sick?” George asked, helping Harry to the sink. “He’s burning up!” George yelled over his shoulder.

 

“Merlin,” Colin uttered in awe. “Look at him.”

 

Harry was indeed a sight. Sweat dribbled in sheets down his temples. His face was ashen beneath its hectic flush and he looked as if a herd of Hippogriff had trampled him.

 

“Help him!” Ginny shrieked, noticing that Harry seemed to be gasping for air. “He can’t breath!”

 

“Easy now,” Remus said in a soothing manner, catching Harry as his legs gave out. “Let’s get him on the table.”

 

“Stand back, girlie!” Moody demanded while pushing Ginny out of his way. Pulling out his wand he ran it over Harry’s quivering body. “Damnation! I can’t tell if a spells been used on him or not, but it seems too sudden for it to be anything else.”

 

Rifling through the drawers of the wooden hutch, Charlie searched frantically through serving spoons; shoving aside candle tapers and their holders until he’d found what he’d been searching for. Crying out in triumph, Charlie whipped out a table cloth, intending to throw it over Harry’s chilled form. He'd broken out into a cold sweat and was shivering convulsively.

 

“No!” his mum yelled, throwing out her hand to prevent him from doing so. “Blanket,” she quickly suggested, “He needs a blanket! It’ll be warmer.”

 

His brow furrowed in confusion, Charlie stated, “Mum, this will do for now.”

 

“Yes, fine… silly of me,” Molly agreed, wringing her hands. “I’m a complete mess. Don’t know whether I’m coming or going. So much happening.”

 

“It’s all right, Molly dear,” Arthur quietly assured her while hugging her loosely with one arm. “We’re all a bit confused and added to that, we’re worried about Sirius and Hermione. Severus will be back shortly and I’m sure he’ll have good news for us.”

 

It was an empty promise and judging by the look on Molly’s face she recognized it for what it was.

 

Needing to feel useful, Molly clearly stated, “ _Accio_ blanket.”

 

In a flash a thick patchwork quilt made by her own hands, rushed into Molly’s waiting arms.

 

“Here,” she thrust the bundle into Charlie’s chest. “That’ll be much more comfortable for Harry and much more effective.”

 

Harry felt the firm surface beneath him, but was not consciously aware that it was the dining table. He could here the low rumble of voices all around him but couldn’t distinguish any of the words. Masses of swirling bright colors floated beneath his eyelids and then suddenly, through the agonizing, skull-splitting pain… she was there.

 

The others watched as Harry started to twitch, his head flinging from side-to-side. Sweat flew from the drenched strands, hitting those nearest to him. Those keeping him safely on the table felt the vibrations from his trembling body completely down to their toes.

 

Moody grunted as Harry forcefully struggled against his restraining hands. Gritting his teeth in aggravation, Moody wondered at how horribly wrong the entire evening had gone. What was meant to have been a joyous occasion had been twisted beyond all recognition. A sad, sorry state of affairs all round.

 

Without warning, Harry sprung straight up, breaking through all six pairs of hands that had been holding him down. Harry, his green eyes wild and unseeing, yelled, “STOP!” The astonishing amount of anguish in that single cry sent shivers down the spines of all those present. Reaching out in supplication, he followed it with an equally terrifying, “PLEASE!”

 

Then, as quickly as it had started, it ended. Harry slumped to the side, his body still shaking but this time they heard the unmistakable sounds of violent retching. A steady stream of black bile came up from the deep, inner depths of Harry’s stomach.

 

Molly held his head, stroking back the wet hair plastered to his forehead in a soothing gesture. In control, once more, Molly flew into mother-mode and said, “Ron, go upstairs and get a spare set of your clothes for Harry.”

 

“But mum, they won’t fi…”

 

“Do it!” she angrily snapped. Seeing her son’s stricken expression, she gently explained, “They might not fit, but they’ll be clean and dry.”

 

When there was nothing left to expel, Harry collapsed against Mrs. Weasly and uttered one word before passing out from exhaustion.

 

“Mione.”

* * *


End file.
